Discovery
by Pendergastlover
Summary: Follows directly after C J Cherryh's Explorer. Bren Cameron heads out to the extreme north where a surprise awaits him. A very human surprise. Rating T is for future events, and could possibly go up.
1. Chapter 1

Bren watched the flat, long-grassed plains fly by from the jeep's window, and tried to keep from biting off his tongue as the vehicle hit another deep rut at the same too-fast pace they had carried since they left the paved road. At one time, the pace the driver now kept would have worried him, even scared him, but that was a long time ago. After a decade of being the paidhi-aiji, chief translator between humans on their island enclave and atevi on the mainland, he had gotten used to such speeds. Such speeds that seemed so reckless to a fragile human mind in a fragile human body, but that suited atevi—black skinned, golden-eyed atevi who stood head and shoulders taller than even the tallest human—quite well.

Still, the fact that they seemed to be following the most rudimentary of roads—if a road existed at all—at such high speeds was hardly comfortable, and he focused on the scenery passing by. Even after ten years, most of them spend living on the mainland, he had never seen the vast northern plains, home to the best tamers of mechieti—the giant atevi riding animal. And this trip was Tabini-aiji's gift to him, a welcome-home-glad-you're-still-alive present, it seemed, after he had arrived home safely after spending more than two years in space—_that_ being a very long, and complicated story. A chance to see a part of the land he had never seen before, and not only that, but in the company of the aiji's grandmother, Ilisidi, whose company Bren had always particularly enjoyed.

And so he found himself in the jeep, with his security detail, Banichi and Jago, and the dowager, with her security, Cenedi, and a man Bren hadn't caught the name of. They were followed by several more vehicles bearing more security—always there was security with the atevi, for whom assassination was a legal option for solving disputes—as well as the routine entourage of staff that accompanied any lord when he traveled.

Make no mistake, he had to remind himself, he was now more of a lord than he had ever been before. As, before the long journey in space, Tabini-aiji had named _him _lord of the heavens. A paidhi had never been named lord of anything, and even before this latest distinction, he had already gained more favor, more notice from the aiji, the most powerful atevi in existence, than any paidhi had done with any aiji in the past. And then Tabini had gone and made _him _lord of the newest province atevi had acquired: space.

Certainly, _definitely _atevi _had _acquired the province of space. Even more than any human had, despite the fact that humans had been the first there. Had, in fact, _come _from space, abandoning the station Alpha after their ship (which had, through some technical problem, gotten completely lost and so had decided the atevi homeworld was the most convenient planet to build a station above) had abandoned them.

And when that same said ship, _Phoenix—_on which he had just spent the last two years of his life—returned, it had been atevi, with all the natural resources of the mainland, and Tabini-aiji's foresight and ambition, who had rebuilt the station, which had fallen into disrepair. And not only that, but had also built their own shuttle to fly them to the orbiting station.

So, yes, make _no _mistake, atevi owned the province of space. Without them, without the fuel they brought from the planet, the ship-humans could not have returned to their other station. Without atevi, Mospheiran humans could never have made it to space. Without atevi, there would be no human movement in space. And Tabini had made _him_—a _human—_lord of the stars. _Not_ an ateva. Note that. He had spent many a night over the past two years pondering the length of the aiji's trust in him. Sometimes, when he had his darkest moments, when he couldn't sleep, and all he could do was doubt himself, he wondered how wise a decision Tabini had made.

But Tabini, in the end, was aiji. The most powerful ateva, and what he said, went, no matter how far-fetched or ridiculous it sounded. And Bren had come, in the past years, to trust Tabini, and knew that the man didn't make rash decisions, had a good and sound reason for everything he did. And even if Bren couldn't understand, couldn't see, that reason, it was there, and he trusted it.

So what was a human to do but simply enjoy the scenery passing by, the prospect of riding mechieta again? --Even if he _had_ spent the last two years thinking of fishing with Jase and Toby. But when the aiji said go, you asked where, and for how long, and do I have time to pack? You didn't question, you didn't say _But I have other plans_. The fishing trip had to be post-poned.

A thundering of hooves—loud, even over the roar of the engine and the _thunk_ of them hitting a patch of rough ground—made him turn his head, look across Ilisidi. A herd of several dozen mecheiti was galloping across the plain, long necks stretched out, leathery black hide glistening in the sun. He watched the ripple of those powerful, impossibly powerful muscles, and felt the first twinge of excitement. For the next week or so—Tabini really hadn't been clear on the length of his stay—he would be riding those creatures.

He wondered if the aiji-dowager might not be tempted to take an overnight trip. Ilisidi was getting old, quite old, but she was the toughest—and, sometimes, meanest—ateva he knew, and this would certainly not be the first time he saw her spend all day on mecheita-back and then sleep in a tent.

"Beautiful," was the dowager's comment.

"Yes, 'Sidi-ji."

She sniffed. "The land is infinitely better than all that cold metal."

Speaking of the woman's endurance, _she_ had accompanied him on his two-year voyage through space. And, he was sure, there had certainly been times that had tried her. But never had he ever heard a word of complaint from her, unless it was for show, and he trusted that he never would.

"One certainly agrees," he said, politely, delicately. He was, and had been, in her good graces for long enough that he did not have to worry so much about the intricate courtesies that accompanied atevi language. But since he had first met her at the Bujavid government complex to begin their trip, she had seemed agitated, her temper quick to flare, so he censored himself and kept to the politeness.

And he had to wonder, despite himself, why Tabini-aiji, who usually understood so well his desires to reconnect with his species, to see his family, had insisted on this trip before he went home. If Mospheira could even really be called home any more, which he doubted, now that he had his own abode—far from humble abode—on the coast. He lived on the mainland, among atevi, worked on the mainland. _This_ was home, he had to admit.

And still, human wiring wanted to reconnect with other humans, with his mother who, astoundingly, had not passed away while he was gone. He hadn't even gotten to speak with his brother, no chance for a ten-minute phone call back to the island. He had arrived at the Bujavid in the capital to an immediate summons from the aiji, who had granted him this trip up to the north, and wanted the trip taken _now_. He had seen the inside of his apartment long enough to greet the staff he had left behind, to see that the proper luggage was packed—which was not his responsibility at all, but that of his staff. And then he had been herded off down to the underground train station below the complex, where Ilisidi had joined him.

Remarkable. And, not wholly amazing. It was, in general, the atevi way of doing things. And yet, it irked him. Perhaps 'Sidi-ji's bad mood was simply connected to the fact that her grandson had forced her along on this trip as well, and that she had not gotten the chance to enjoy home, either.

Still, it seemed there was something else, as well. After all, Ilisidi would more than likely have retreated to her country estate as quickly as possible, to enjoy the mechieta, the brisk morning air, the ancient castle, the outdoors. Which was, plus or minus the centuries-old castle, what they were doing out here. He thought, with a nagging suspicion, that there was probably something else, some other reason why Tabini had sent him out to the far north, and why Ilisidi had been dragged along.

Long years' experience with intricate atevi court intrigue dictated that he be suspicious. Not just now, but always. But unlike so many times before, he did not know at what to focus his suspicion. In the past, in the early years of his term as paidhi-aiji, he might have been tempted to think that Tabini had sent him out to the far-reaches of the land to be killed, quietly, where no one would ever notice or remember. But he knew that couldn't be the case. First, there was no reason for Tabini to kill his new lord at all. He was simply too valuable to the aiji. Second, there was no reason, if Tabini did indeed want him dead, which he knew not to be the case, that it should be done quietly. Tabini could have had him shot right in the comfort of his luxurious apartments in the Bujavid, or perhaps poisoned while he had breakfast on the balcony of his own spacious home on the coast. In a culture where assassination was a very legal and very real option for settling disputes, there was no reason for his death—should it not be accidental—to be done quietly.

It was not there that the options for suspicion stopped, but that was obviously the most dangerous. And yet, everything else he could think of did not warrant the quick exit, the lack of down-time, that Tabini had insisted upon.

A second thought: there _were_ lords up here, as far as he knew. Provincial, country lords who rarely saw the intrigue of the courts of Shejidan and the Bujavid. As far as he knew, these lords retained none too few of the much older atevi traditions, harking back to times long before humans had appeared on the scene. Perhaps several of these lords had gotten into a dispute, and the aiji had sent his prime negotiator to quell the hostility.

Such a situation might even explain Ilisidi's presence on the trip: she served as a reminder of the aiji's reach. Even so far away, I can still reach you, the aiji seemed to be saying. I can still take care of you, I can still settle your problems. And that might also explain Ilisidi's ill temper: after all, who would really want to come as a sidekick to a negotiator. And if Ilisidi _had_ agreed to come (as she obviously had), then she must be getting something out of it, too.

The mechieti, of course.

He sighed, sat back in his seat and tried to relax his muscles so the bumps weren't quite so jarring. That was it, then. Tabini had sent them on a vacation to view the mechieti, and as a side note, he wanted Bren to quell some minor dispute between atevi lords. Speak to them, one lord to another.

Though he might not have exactly appreciated being sent out on a mission without being told at all what it really was, he also felt relieved, and rather relaxed to know—or at least be relatively sure—that it was no worse than that. And it was rather comforting, too, to think of returning to his old job, as it were. He could be the paidhi again, translator, negotiator, mediator. Instead of lord of the heavens.

They passed the mechieta herd and Ilisidi said, "And now on to business."

He resisted the urge to ask what business. Whether he was right in his assumption that they were gone to visit disputing lords, or not, he was not yet ready to show that he had no information at all. Which, really, was just his pride acting, as the aiji would surely have informed his grandmother of everything he had told Bren, which was nothing.

Ilisidi knew, of that Bren was certain. Nevermind that Tabini might not have told her. Nevermind that they had not been back on the planet for more than three days. Ilisidi knew. She would have gotten word of all the intrigue and happenings of the atevi world, especially the important events, as soon as she stepped out of the shuttle.

He, too, probably had all the information, but instead of coming through his security (who, doubtless, knew, but had been informed by Tabini, apparently, to keep him in the dark), it was all sitting in the pile of message cylinders that had doubtless accumulated over the last two years. What staff had done with those cylinders, he had no idea. But he trusted that the important ones—both those dealing with atevi affairs and those from his family (the Mospheiran government having stopped communicating him some years back, when they realized he would put Tabini's priorities above humans')—had been kept safe somewhere, waiting for his return.

And Bren, watching the frozen plain fly by, feeling the cold even through the jeep's heated interior, was just glad he _had_ returned to receive those messages, though it would undoubtedly mean many weeks of staying up late reading. But he would be staying up in his own apartment, or even better, in his own estate, in _his_ furniture, comfortable and warm, with not a metal wall in sight. And if he wanted to, he'd be able to open a window without the fear of being sucked out into space. He could feel the breeze, however frigid. He could smell the flowers. Watch the ocean.

Oh, yes, he was glad to be home. Home now not just meaning a place of residence, the Bujavid apartment or even the sea-side estate, but meaning the _planet_, and all the life and inconsistencies that went with it. Lightning and thunder and rain. Uncomfortable heat and uncomfortable cold. And dust and mud and grass and sand he could walk bare-foot in. Oh, yes, he was glad, never doubt that.

He took the chance, thinking the mechieta herd might just have put 'Sidi-ji in a better mood. "What business, exactly, 'Sidi-ji?"

She gave him a glance, a flash of pale gold eyes in the late afternoon winter light. "The vacation business," she said, and gave him another look that most definitely said there was _real_ business at hand.

He allowed ample time to pass that she would not think he was challenging her. "Are the lords disputing, aiji-ma?"

She gave a not-too-delicate snort. "The lords are always disputing, Bren-ji. My grandson would hardly send his favorite lord out to the ends of the earth to solve a squabble between country lords."

Internally, he frowned, but kept his face passive. It was not the lords, that told him. And: but it was _something_. _And _that it was something urgent. Something he had obviously not thought of yet, and urgent enough that Tabini had seen fit that he should be sent out to the plains as soon as he returned. And he wanted so _badly_ to ask her why Tabini had not told him why it was so.

As if she had read his thoughts, Ilisidi said mildly, "My grandson has his foolish reasons for keeping you uninformed. But I think that all ridiculous, and I hardly think it fair to send you into a situation completely blind."

"I would be most appreciative of any information you would give me, aiji-ma."

She waved a bony hand airily. "Let us dispense with the formalities. They are hardly necessary." She paused to watch the frozen landscape pass by for a second, sitting incredibly still for all the jarring. "You keep my grandson in good form, Bren-ji. Good man. But when you are not here…" She _tsked_ disapprovingly. "My grandson takes risks."

He was starting to get that feeling in the pit of his stomach. That feeling of intense dread. "Risks, aiji-ma?"

"Risks, Bren-ji. Like the risks that dealing with humans without any mediator."

The feeling of dread got much, much worse. And since the information flow had begun to run, one dared not ask questions that might interrupt that flow, or limit the information that might come, if unhindered.

Ilisidi continued, her tone airy, unworried. "It seems as though my grandson has taken the time that you have been absent to open the door to humans, to make relations even more…welcoming."

She was getting to something. But what, he couldn't imagine. Or didn't _want_ to imagine.

"My grandson, it would seem, as adjusted the Treaty of Mosphei' to suit his own purposes."

He swallowed, and worked very hard to keep his face still and expressionless. "I'm afraid I do not understand, aiji-ma. How has Tabini-aiji adjusted the Treaty?"

"My foolish grandson has allowed a colony of humans to live up here on the plains."


	2. Chapter 2

The plain stretched on as it had before, but he could hardly look at it the same way. It took a while for the realization to fully sink in, and he was sure, in that span of a few moments, the entire scope of consequences had not even begun to occur to his consciousness. For over two hundred years the Treaty of Mosphei had created and maintained a steady peace between the two species via a long list of agreements and compromises. But certainly at the very top of the list was the condition that humans stay on Mospheira, on the island, _out_ of the atevi's way.

And now Tabini, with _no_ human mediator present to talk sense into a foolish idea, had gone and thrown the Treaty right out the window and allowed humans to colonize the mainland. Where, even considering the completely out of the way location, atevi were _bound_ to be , could not help but be, effected.

"_Why_?" was the immediate question. Followed by the belated courtesy: "aiji-ma."

"Some rubbish about over-population," Ilisidi answered with a dismissive wave.

Well, that made sense, to the point that over-population had been a concern when he left. But it had raised questions of child limitations. As far as he knew there had never even been a whisper of moving to the mainland. And so what? --Out of the blue, Tabini decides to offer humans a place on continent, and the President on Mospheira simply accepts? --He found that highly unlikely, considering the President couldn't decide to go to the bathroom without hours of committee deliberation. A decision to send humans to the mainland, to break the Treaty, should take years, if not decades, of argument in the committees. So how, in under two years, did this happen?

Then, of course, one had to accept that somehow it _had_ happened, and move on to much more troubling thoughts. Like did these pioneering humans know anything at all about atevi? Did they know the language, the customs? Considering that to get the job he had now, he had not only had to _complete_ a graduate program, but come out number one in his class, he not only _knew_ these humans did not have the grasp that he had, but sincerely doubted that they had had more than a year of schooling, if that. Which he _knew_ was nowhere _near_ the amount needed to get remotely close to comprehension. Nevermind fluency.

_God_. No _wonder_ Tabini wanted him up here at earliest possible moment. The man had probably gotten himself in _way_ over his head. Some ignorant human had probably said the most wrong thing possible to some lord, and the offended lord had filed Intent and now Tabini sent him up here to dissuade said lord and prevent a second war between the two species.

And Tabini had sent him into the situation with not a word of warning, _certainly_ no briefing.

It was, at the moment, very, _very_ hard not to hate the man, and damn him in front of his grandmother. Who might have found it amusing, or might have had him shot. Either way, you didn't go around damning the aiji when you were trying to be diplomatic.

"How far is this colony, aiji-ma?" he dared to ask.

The dowager waved a hand. "We go to see the mechieti first. Let the humans wait."

He sat back, trying to relax, and resisted the urge to turn around and look at his security detail, Banichi and Jago. Resisted the urge to ask them if they had known. Because of _course_ they had known, and, barring the fact that their job was to protect him at all costs, they followed the aiji's orders ultimately, which had, apparently, been that they keep quiet about the matter. Tabini-aiji's very odd, very unsettling, gift to him as he returned home.

In the next moment, he realized that the road had smoothed out a bit. It was still unpaved, but obviously more traveled. A look out the window told him they were definitely entering a more lived-in area. There was a wide trail beside the road, something certainly traveled by mechieti, probably made by the pounding of hundreds of mechieti feet over time.

And they _weren't_ going immediately to the human colony, apparently, which suggested to him that perhaps the situation was not as dire as he had first imagined. Or else that the dowager did not particularly care if some ignorant, mis-stepping human got shot for his mistakes. In which case, perhaps it would be wise for him to say something. Except that one didn't make suggestions to the aiji-dowager, especially if one wasn't entirely informed. And he was nowhere close to that.

Outside, he began to see buildings passing. Wood structures, mostly low to the ground, with tiled roofs. They had obviously born the brunt of the harsh northern weather for quite some time, and had come out the better for it, stronger. At first there was only one or two, but then they started appearing in clusters of three or more, until suddenly they were driving in the middle of a small town, passing atevi bundled in thick clothing against the cold.

Their caravan stopped before the largest of the town's buildings, a two-story affair made of stucco and wood, with deep red tiles on the roof. Even before they had completely stopped, the front door of the place—a set of doors, in fact, with etched, colored glass in each one—opened and an ateva man, perhaps in late middle-age, appeared, dressed in country finest and followed by a small group of mostly women, everyone dressed in their finest to greet the aiji's grandmother and the paidhi-aiji.

On their side, security got out first. He caught sight of one of their vehicles parked to the side of the building, and knew that more security—with all the requisite electronics and equipment—had probably arrived early that morning, if not the night before, in order to satisfactorily rig the place. There'd be wires on every door and window by now, every possibly dangerous place marked out and taken care of, emergency contingencies, exits, escapes, worked out to a tee. And it was all a routine he was quite familiar with.

When security seemed satisfied that no one was going to shoot, the doors were opened for him and the dowager, and they exited. Into freezing air that was blessedly still, the added chill of a wind having most certainly freezing consequences for a thin-skinned human. He silently thanked Bindanda and Narani for correctly guessing the weather and dressing him accordingly.

"Aiji-dowager," the man greeted, bowing low. "Paidhi-aiji." Another bow. "We are most honored to have you with us."

Ilisidi watched the man bow, her hands folded atop her cane, and gave a nod. "Enada-ji."

"Your hospitality is most welcomed, nadi," Bren added, with a slight bow.

Enada motioned them with a wave toward the house. "Let us out of this cold, nadiin. Perhaps you would like to see your rooms?"

"Indeed," Ilisidi answered, and followed Enada into the house. Bren followed, security folding in behind them.

The building turned out to be most like a hunting lodge, the interior rather dark and smelling of roast meat. Trophy animals were mounted on the walls, some creatures Bren was surprised he did not recognize. They were shown through a series of rooms, a sitting room with a thick animal hide on the floor and atevi-scale lounges, a dining room, then up a narrow staircase to a single hallway. The bedrooms turned out to be, to Bren's mild surprise, not a single room, but each a suite, with its own small sitting room, bedroom, and bathroom. The furnishings were equally impressive.

When the tour was complete—security and staff's rooms having been omitted—Enada led them back downstairs, and suddenly seemed, in the face of such a formidable person as Ilisidi, to be uncertain about what to do next. Ilisidi immediately made a suggestion, but one could be sure one not made out of sympathy for the man's conundrum, but out of her own desires.

"Refreshments, nadi. It has been a long trip."

Enada bowed, and seemed relieved. "Certainly, aiji-dowager." And disappeared.

Ilisidi took a seat, and motioned that Bren should sit, too. And waited until Enada himself, along with half a dozen staff members brought out dishes, a collection of dishes large enough that it wasn't exactly the quick refreshment he had expected, but an entire meal. There were a few roasted foul, with a gamey, country taste, a stalky vegetable with a cream nut sauce, another type of meat, game of some sort, and a collection of pastries and colored noodles with a thick, fatty gravy. Everything had the appearance—and taste—of food found just outside the door, the game recently killed, the greenery recently picked. Although, where vegetables would have been found growing in the frozen ground, he wasn't sure.

They ate, at the main course complimenting the cook, and finished with finely iced pastries and a dessert liquor he had never tasted before, but was assured was safe for humans. All in all, it was a pleasant meal, even if he would have preferred to have been out walking after the long drive over rough ground, stretching his legs and easing the soreness out of his backside. But pleasant, and if it was a harbinger of future meals, than he thought he would have little complaint while they stayed here.

The dinner wound down, and Ilisidi stood. Several hours had passed, and the view out the window showed that night had fallen. Ilisidi's haste to see the mechieti seemed to have faded somewhat, and she announced, "It is time we retired. An early morning, nadi," she added to Bren, suggesting that maybe he should retire, as well.

Ilisidi turned to Enada, "An early morning, nadi," she repeated, this time for their host's benefit. "One trusts there will be breakfast. And lunch in bags."

Enada bowed. "It will be done, aiji-dowager."

Ilisidi nodded, Bren bowed to her, and she headed up the stairs, her cane clicking on the wood.

Bren wondered if perhaps he should head that way, too, but found himself too restless to sleep, and instead headed back to where he remembered the sitting room was, recalling that he thought he had seen several filled bookshelves. At the dining room door, Banichi and Jago—ever present—met him.

"The aiji-dowager says an early morning, nadiin," he said as way of a greeting, and didn't ask where they had been. He was sure they had been scouting the premises, noting the dangerous spots and making sure the security precautions met their satisfaction. Which he trusted they did.

"Yes," Banichi said. "There will be mechieti."

So they were going to go riding. He found himself pleased at the prospect. "Until after lunch, nadiin?"

It was Jago who answered. "Yes. She intends to visit the human colony."

Of _course_ Ilisidi would choose to ride to the colony instead of drive to it. Make the entrance of a warlord of old, high atop a mechieta. She could be quite dramatic when she chose to be.

"Would you suggest bed, nadiin?"

"We will be leaving before dawn," Banichi informed, and let him make the decision.

Which, though the books were calling, he did. "Bed, then," he decided, and changed direction toward the stairs.

Up in his room, Bindanda met him, helped him strip from the warm country clothes—which he had grown uncomfortably warm in, anyway—and then disappeared with the clothes, after making sure Bren did not need anything else. He didn't. Instead, he slipped into the bed, found that even under the heavy animal-fur blanket, the sheets—a very light, very soft linen—were cool and comfortable. He pulled the blankets up, feeling a sudden chill from outside, and had just started wondering if Jago would arrive when the door opened and she slipped inside.

He watched her undress in the dark, her body silhouetted, black background behind a blacker being, and welcomed her warmth beside him. They made love, such as it was, atevi not actually being biologically capable of feeling that particular emotion. Over the past years, he had grown quite comfortable being with her, though there was no love involved, and not every night could she come to him.

He had not found himself attracted to a human woman for a very, very long time, not even while he had spent two years aboard a space ship with mostly humans. Sometimes, he wondered if that was a problem, if he had finally become the traitor to his species that various humans over the past decade had called him.

In the middle of that thought, he slept.

And woke some time later to the movement of the bed as Jago got out of bed, and began to dress. He pushed himself up on one elbow. "Jago-ji?"

"Go back to sleep, Bren-ji," she said quietly, and buckled on her gun belt.

"Is there trouble?" he persisted.

"One hopes not, nadi," she answered, and checked her gear once more before slipping silently out of the room.

For a moment, he considered doing what she said, and going back to sleep. But then he heard voices outside and reached out into the cold air for his robe. He went to the window, still wrapping the robe about his body, and looked down into the courtyard that made up a large part of the area behind the building. He could see, against the white snow and gray granite stone of the courtyard, a fairly large grouping of their security, both his and Ilisidi's. He could see they were talking, even hear the low murmur of their voices, but could not understand what they were saying. There did seem to be quite a lot of gesturing toward the two very large gates at the other end of the courtyard, which, to his surprise, were opened.

Despite Jago's reassurance, he wondered if there wasn't some sort of trouble happening, or about to happen, and if he should perhaps dress and go down there. He had just decided it might be a good idea, and had reached for something more appropriate to wear, when Banichi showed up in the doorway, a dark, light-blocking shadow. He started.

"Go back to bed, nadi," Banichi said. "We can handle this."

"Is there trouble, nadi?"

"There shouldn't be," Banichi answered, and that was not quite the same as what Jago had told him. "Go back to sleep, Bren-ji."

He replaced the clothing as Banichi left, but did not go back to bed. Instead, he returned to his post by the window. More security had arrived. He saw Banichi stride into the courtyard. There was increased activity. Voices rose a little higher. Perhaps even arguing. The gesturing toward the gate had not stopped.

And then a moment later, everyone turned as a massive black animal came galloping around the corner, followed closely by many others, and the squeals of mechieti easily reached his ears. The courtyard was very large, but with a whole herd of mechieti suddenly occupying the courtyard, space had quickly diminished, pushing security up against the walls in order to avoid the mountains of flesh and long tusks. Those tusks, naturally used for digging at roots in the frozen ground, could easily turn into weapons if someone got in the way. In ancient times, lords going to war with neighbors had capped those tusks with sharp points and they had torn mechieta and ateva apart alike.

That first mechieta that had rounded the bend was the leader. In an open plain, whether while grazing or at a full gallop, the others would look towards that one, unconditionally. Just like atevi, no matter what, looked up the ladder of their man'chi. The ateva who rode that mechieta would be the highest up that ladder, among this particular group of riders. In that partnership, mechieta and ateva would be intricately connected in that particular way, leaders, both of them.

He tried to keep an eye on that particular mechieta, because that one's rider would likely give him the most information about what was happening. Unfortunately, that rider was heavily clothed in a hooded winter jacket. The fur-lined hood completely shaded the face.

And Bren found himself distracted by the other riders, some of whom had let down their hoods, to reveal atevi faces. But these were different from any he had ever seen before, because they were surrounded by long black hair that hung loose about their faces, falling down their backs. Atevi, as far as he had ever met, wore their long hair in a single plait that hung in the middle of their backs, between their shoulder blades. Men and women alike wore this style.

There was a stir at the door and he turned to find Narani hesitating at the doorway. _Was anyone asleep_? "'Rani-ji," he greeted, and motioned that he should come in.

Narani entered, and stood beside Bren at the window. "Those are mecheiti trainers, nadi," he said, and made a small sound of…disapproval? Bren wasn't sure how to translate that last, quiet snort.

"Do they always wear their hair down, nadi?"

"Yes. They say it makes them appear bigger and more intimidating to the mechieti."

Bren wondered how Narani, cultured, quiet-spoken Narani would know any of this, and then got his answer when Narani said, "I grew up here, nadi. In a township not far from here. The trainers used to bring their herds right through town. They are an uncivilized group of people."

Down below, several of the security forces had moved toward that lead mechieta, and were now speaking with the rider, who still had not let down his hood. Questionable, that was. And he suddenly became aware of a certain, telling gleam around the animals' mouths. Gold-colored. The mechieti were wearing the brass battle caps on their tusks! He looked again to the lead mechieta, and saw that, yes, that one, too, had the caps. And was it his imagination, or was that dark spot blood?

"What is happening, 'Rani-ji? Why are they here? Where have they come from?"

"From the north," Narani explained. "You should ask your security why they are here, nadi."

Outside, security had continued to talk with the rider of the lead mechieta, and suddenly Bren realized that that particular rider seemed smaller than the other riders, perhaps even as small as a child. But no, a child would not be a tamer of mechieta. In which case, it had to be a very old ateva. Like Ilisidi, who actually stood at _his_ height, made smaller by age.

He guessed, then, that their midnight visitors were more important than Narani let on, more than simply uncivilized tamers of mechieta. And he decided, as a ripple of activity moved through the herd and huge masses of black flesh moved with surprising agility and alarming speed, that perhaps, despite the advice of his security, it was time he went down and saw what was happening. He couldn't shake the sight of that dark patch on the capped tusk, and even as he prepared to ask Narani to set out some clothes, he noticed that there were more dark patches.

"Nadi—" he began, looking back at the major domo of his staff. But then his attention was drawn once again back to the courtyard as there was a sudden burst of noise and activity. The lead rider wielded his animal about, eliciting a squeal, and then those powerful haunches bunched, launching mechieta and rider toward the gate. The courtyard filled with the sounds of mechieti moving and communicating and snorting, and the space quickly emptied of everyone save for security.

"Nand' paidhi," Narani began.

"I regret I have kept you from sleep," Bren said. "Please, get some rest. One hears we move early in the morning, nadi."

Narani bowed, and left the room. Bren flung the robe over the back of a chair and got back into bed, intending to stay awake until Jago came back, so he could attempt to pry information from her. But almost as soon as his head sank into the soft pillow, he felt sleep take a hold of him, and despite his attempt to keep his eyes open, he fell into a deep sleep that was not even disrupted when Jago returned.


End file.
